


A Happy Accident

by iamthesongofgabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Rated for eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamthesongofgabriel/pseuds/iamthesongofgabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean believes that one should let the day's events determine your mood, rather than accepting the blanket optimism or pessimism that many people feel upon initially waking up.</p><p>Castiel is not having a good day.</p><p>Who knew that something as unpleasant as a car accident could have something wonderful come out of it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, so it won't be the best thing you've ever read, but I hope it will be far from the worst!
> 
> "There are no mistakes, only happy accidents."  
> ~Bob Ross

Every once in a while, you find yourself waking up in the morning and you just feel good. You feel like there is nothing and no one in the world that can bring you down. Most people wouldn't question it and would just go about their day, enjoying the emotional high.

 

Dean Winchester is not most people.

 

When Dean Winchester wakes up feeling inexplicably good, he immediately brushes it off and starts the day out feeling rather indifferent. He preferred to let the day's events determine his mood.

 

So when he woke up the morning of February 2, 2005 feeling oddly joyful, he shook it off and sleepily made his way to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before quickly brushing his teeth and lazily combing his hair. He was scheduled to open up the shop in a little less than an hour, so he would have to hurry if he wanted to eat anything before his lunch break.

 

Dean made his way back to his room, grabbed a pair of oil-stained jeans and a faded grey t-shirt out of his small dresser, and put them on. He finally made his way to his apartment's tiny kitchen and fired up the fancy Keurig that Sam had given him for Christmas the past year, desperate for the energizing effects of caffeine to help him feel ready for a long day of fixing up the cars of Sioux Falls' local population. He prayed that he would get a classic to work on today; it had been months since he had gotten the chance to handle such a beautiful piece of machinery and he was really itching to get his hands on one again.

 

The sudden silence in the kitchen signaled that the coffee was ready. Dean transferred it from the mug to a travel thermos and reached into one of his cabinets, rifling through a box to pull out a granola bar before heading for the door. He shoved the granola bar into one of the pockets in his jeans so he could put on his old leather jacket, which was tricky to do with his coffee in his hand. He quietly cursed himself, telling himself to put his jacket on before making coffee next time.

 

Finally, with fifteen minutes until he had to open, Dean was out the door. Grabbing the keys out of his jacket, he climbed into his pride and joy: the 1967 Chevy Impala his father had passed onto him after he turned eighteen, and with that he was off towards Singer Auto, eager to get under yet another hood.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel Novak was not having a good day, and it had barely even started. First of all, Gabriel had used up all of the hot water again, leaving him to wake up to a cold shower. Then, his printer ran out of ink in the middle of printing out the project guideline handouts he needed to give to several of his classes. Thankfully, Gabriel had the courtesy to leave behind a fresh pot of coffee before he left, which was almost enough to make up for the lack of hot water. After putting on his jacket and grabbing a banana to go with his coffee, Castiel was out the door.

 

Castiel had to admit that, though he was still unused to it, it felt pretty damn good to sit behind the wheel of a 1967 Camaro. He had owned it for just over a year so far and hoped to keep it for many more. Despite the cold, it started up without a hitch, and Castiel was on his way to work at the University of Sioux Falls.

 

The first class he taught that day was a New Testament as Literature class. He was glad that this class had already been given their project handouts on Monday and that they had moved on to his favorite part of assigning projects: library day, one of several over the duration of the project. While his students flitted back and forth between computers and bookshelves, he would take the time to browse the content of the library for a new book to read. He had just finished reading the third book in the Song of Ice and Fire series, perhaps he could look for the fourth one. What was it called again? A quick search through the catalog system reminded him that he needed to be looking for A Feast for Crows. He quickly jotted down the call number and was off to search for the next step on this particular literary journey.

 

He sat down and made it halfway through the prologue before one of his students approached him for help. He heard an almost timid female voice say,

 

“Dr. Novak, may I please get your help with something?”

 

Castiel closed his book, making a mental note of where he left off before looking up to see Jo Harvelle, one of the juniors in his class standing before him.

 

“Of course, Miss Harvelle,” he replied with a light smile. “How many I help you?”

 

“Um, I found a book to use for my project, but it's on a shelf that I can't reach.” she told him, a faint blush covering her cheeks. “I was wondering if you would please help me reach it, 'cause the entirety of the library staff appears to be busy at the moment.”

 

Castiel chuckled to himself softly and said, “Of course, Miss Harvelle. I'd be all too glad to help.”

 

He stood up and retrieved her book for her before returning to his own, losing himself in a world of murder, mayhem, and dragons.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are three things that Dean hates more than anything else on earth. First, there's chick flick moments, closely followed by people who claim that cake is better than pie.

 

The ultimate hatred for Dean? Fucking hybrid cars.

 

For one thing, despite all claims that they are “better for the environment,” most that he knew of got a sub-standard gas mileage rating. Then there was the fact that so much of the interior machinery, like the stereo and odometer, was computerized, thus making it a pain in the ass for him to fix.

 

Right now he was deep in the underbelly of a Prius, trying to find out why it was getting shittier mileage than usual. He had been underneath for over twenty minutes and hadn't found the problem yet. He was about to give up, take his lunch break and go back to look later when he finally found it. There was a roughly pea-sized hole in the gas line that connected it to the engine.

 

Dean swore loudly before rolling out from underneath the car and walking into the office that was connected to the building that housed the three garage bays. He wiped his hands down on his jeans before calling out to his business partner, “Ey Bobby, can you do me a favor?”

 

“What do ya need, ya idjit?” came the gruff reply from near the coffee pot they kept for the customers to use while they waited for small repairs or a quick oil change.

 

“You mind ordering a new gas line tube for this damn Prius we got out back? I'm gonna go ahead and give Marcy the call to let her know that she's going to be without a car till after that part comes in and we get it fixed.”

 

“Sure thing. After that, take your lunch break. You've been here since the ass crack of dawn and you know if you don't munch on something soon, your mom will somehow know and get onto my ass for it.”

 

“Can do, Bobby.” he replied, laughing quietly to himself.

 

He walked behind the counter and picked up the office phone, calling Marcy to tell her the news and apologize for any inconvenience. He also gave her the phone number for a local rental service, telling her to relay to them that either he or Bobby sent her so that she could receive a discount on a car rental. After that, he called out to Bobby to tell him he was going out for lunch and that he'd be back later. Bobby grunted in answer, and then Dean was off to sate his growling stomach. He could practically hear his favorite diner and its glorious cheeseburgers calling his name.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Remember, you guys need to have at least the first third of your research done by the beginning of next week. How much you've done and how well you've structured your research notes will count for the equivalent of one test grade!” Castiel bellowed out to try and make himself heard over the raucous class he was currently teaching.

 

“Freshmen...” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as the clock 3:30, signaling the end of class and the large lecture hall suddenly found itself devoid of students.

 

Thankfully Castiel was done lecturing for the day. However, he still had his office hours to preside over before he could go home for the day. He got to work on grading the pop quizzes he had dropped on the orientation class he taught, which did not take too long, and once that was done, he had only one student drop by. It was Jo Harvelle again, thanking him for his assistance earlier and letting him know she wouldn't be in class Friday because of a dentist appointment. He assured her it would not be a problem, as long as she brought in a signed doctor's note on Monday. After that she was off again, and he realized it was quarter to five and it was time to head home. He quickly and quietly locked up his office and went out to his car. He was soon on his way, looking to a nice, quiet evening of finishing up some grading and getting in some pleasure reading.

 

Of course, you know what they say about the best laid plans.

 

Castiel had made it about halfway home when it happened.

 

It started when his car's battery died as he was about to pull through a light.

 

It ended when the guy behind him didn't realize he wasn't moving and drove into his rear bumper.

 

Castiel winced as he heard the sound of his bumper crunching upon impact. Thankfully, it was over as quickly as it had begun. Both he and the other driver got out of their cars, the other man apologizing profusely as he began to dial the police so they could come and work on the accident report. After he got off the phone, the other man buried his face in his hands, his shaggy brown hair flopping slightly.

 

When he removed his hands from his face, the young man looked at the bumper of Castiel's car and groaned, “My brother is going to murder me when he finds out about this.”

 

“Is this his car you were driving?” asked Castiel, filling in the awkward atmosphere with conversation to try and alleviate some of the tension in the air.

 

“No, it’s a rental that I thankfully shelled out the money for the insurance coverage on. He's gonna be mad because, well, he's one of the best mechanics in town here and he loves classic cars like yours,” he began. “He's going to kill me for ‘hurting such a thing of beauty'. I mean, he's going to love fixing it, but still...”

 

Castiel deliberated on what to do before saying, “Who says your brother has to find out it was you?”

 

The other man tilted his head, obviously confused as he said, “Huh?”

 

“Well, the police will come before the tow truck does to take me and my car away, right?”

 

“More than likely, yes.”

 

“Well, how about once the accident report is taken care of, you hop in your rental and head on your merry way? It'll be our little secret,” offered Castiel, wanting to keep things short, sweet and friendly.

 

The young man's jaw practically fell to the ground upon hearing Castiel's offer. It was almost as though he was expecting some sort of serious legal repercussion for the relatively minor accident.

 

“Are you serious?” he asked, standing up to his full height.

 

 _Damn this kid is tall_ , he thought to himself as he assured the other man, “As a heart attack.”

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled up and out stepped the town sheriff, clipboard and paperwork in in hand.

 

“Good evening, Sheriff Mills,” greeted Castiel, shaking her hand firmly.

 

“For the last time kiddo, call me Jody,” she teased, removing the cap of her pen. “Now, who wants to tell me who's at fault here?”

 

“That would be me, ma'am,” the taller man supplied sheepishly.

 

“Name?”

 

“Sam Winchester.”

 

“Dean's little brother?”

 

“Yes ma'am.”

 

Jody whistled, “I don't envy you in the event he finds out.”

 

Sam winced, “No kidding.”

 

“Well, I'll leave you to worry about that yourself. This is the last thing I've got before I can punch out at the station and head to my son's parent night, and I can't imagine you two want to hang out at this intersection all night. How about we get this report done and under wraps?”

 

“Fine by me.” both men replied at the same time, laughing at the coincidence.

 

Jody smiled at the two of them, grateful this was going to be taken care of amicably.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Well Dean, looks like you're about to get what you've been wishin' for.” Bobby commented as Dean walked back into the office.

 

“Beg your pardon?” he asked, a confused look overtaking his face.

 

“We've got a classic coming in, ya idjit. A ‘67 Camaro to be specific.”

 

Though Dean might deny it to his dying day, his face lit up with excitement in such a way that you would be able to see it from space. After months of hoping, he was finally getting to work on a classic again. He was going to get to nurse the beautiful creature back to its natural state of perfection.

 

“What's the problem with it?” he asked Bobby cautiously, fearing for the worst.

 

“Well, it's not pretty, that's for damn sure. Poor bastard's battery died when he went to pull through an intersection and the asshat behind him rear-ended the car and crumpled up the bumper like a wad of paper.”

 

Dean cringed visibly as he moved closer to the door, looking out for the tow truck. Just imagining the damage hurt him on the inside.

 

“Look at it this way, kiddo: you'll get to spend a lot of quality time with it.”

 

Trust Bobby to find the silver lining in a situation. Dean was immensely grateful for the other man's brash, yet somehow still level-headed presence. It helped him from losing his cool during particularly stressful days on the job.

 

At that moment, both men heard the tow  truck’s familiar rumble. Dean all but ran out side, Bobby following close behind. They watched as Ash, their part-time tow truck driver, pulled in.

 

The front of the car in the bed of the tow truck, if you asked Dean, was damn near close to perfection. Smooth, sleek, coated in a dark metallic red paint job, obviously well cared for.

 

“Son of a bitch...” Dean muttered through a grimace as the back end of the car came into view.

 

It wasn't undriveable, but it also wasn't pretty. The back end was pretty unpleasantly crumpled, where whoever hit it had obviously floored it to try and make it through the light. Whoever it was had probably been in a hurry.

 

Whoever it was would probably be dead if Dean ever found them and got his hands on them.

 

Bobby whistled as he saw it, shaking his head. They were going to have their hands filled with this one, something he knew that Dean would relish. The more the had to do with something he loved as much as a classic, the more pleasant he would be to work around.

 

Ash parked the truck in front of the remaining open bay, and turned on the pulley lowering mechanism, gingerly lowering the car to the ground. As he did so, the passenger, presumably the Camaro's driver, opened the door, jumping down onto the ground.

 

Dean had presumed that the driver would be older, someone who had likely purchased the car as an outlet for their mid-life crisis.

 

He had never been so happy to be so completely wrong in all of his life.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas finally meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had the first two chapters written before I started posting, but have yet to work on Chapter 3. I will start on it soon, but with school and finals coming up, I may not have it posted by next Tuesday. Apologies in advance!

The man that jumped out of the tow truck looked to be pretty close to Dean's age, a year or two older at most. His hair was slightly ruffled, with a smooth, dark chocolaty color and his skin leaned towards the darker end of pale, a slight tan just barely evident. However, none of those features stuck out in Dean's mind like his eyes did.

His eyes were an almost ethereal shade of blue that seemed to instill a certain sense of calm. They almost gave Dean the feeling of being enveloped in the waves of an ocean, bringing him in and sweeping him off -----

No- Dean Winchester was not going to have a chick flick moment in his head over some guy he hadn't even met yet.

He shook himself out before stepping forward to stand about two feet away from the other man and holding out his hand for a shake as he said, “Hello, I'm Dean Winchester. I'll be the main guy working on your car until it's back to 100%.”

The car's owner held out his hand, grasping Dean's in a firm handshake. Both men froze for a split second, feeling and almost electric tingle where their hands were joined.

As soon as both men recovered from the minor shock, the Camaro's driver smiled kindly and returned Dean's introduction with on of his own by replying, “My name is Castiel Novak. I'm sure you'll do a more than satisfactory job on the repairs, if the last hour of listening to Sheriff Mills and Ash singing praises of your mechanical prowess is anything to go by.”

Dean felt the tips of his ears start faintly burning with a blush at the compliment.

“Well, I always try to please my customers as best as I can, Mr. Novak,” Dean replied. “I figured I wouldn't be anything close to a decent mechanic if I didn't at least try to look out for my customer's happiness.”

“Quite right you are, Mr. Winchester. I can already tell that the Sheriff and Ash were right about you.” Castiel smiled. “And please, call me Castiel. Only my students call me Mr. Novak.”

“I'll only call you Castiel if you'll call me Dean.”

“I think I can manage that.”

At this point, Bobby cleared his throat in the background, bringing both Dean and Castiel back down to earth. They realized they had never dropped their handshake and quickly went to do so, breaking an unrealized prolonged eye contact and looked towards Bobby.

“Well, if you two idjits are done trying to gaze on each other's souls, I'm gonna go ahead and lock all the bays up for the night so we can all head home for some R&R. We can start on the Camaro tomorrow mornin',” he said with authority.

With that, Bobby walked away from them, first locking up the bay with Castiel's Camaro inside and then moving on to the others. As the familiar sound of sliding metal doors filled the air, Dean looked back to Castiel and smiled at him nervously.

“So...uh, how are you planning to get to home?” he asked Castiel, mentally smacking himself for sounding so much like a teenage girl.

Castiel blinked at him a couple times before his eyes widened and he whispered, “Oh God, I hadn't even thought about that yet! And Gabriel's out of town so he can pick up that damn part for his convection oven himself because he's such a paranoid twit and doesn't trust the postal service to deliver it.”

Dean almost laughed before straightening his expression out. Before his brain could stop him, he found himself rambling out, “If it's cool with you, I could give you a ride, ya know, since most rental places are closed till tomorrow and cab rides can be expensive as hell depending where you go.”

Castiel smiled softly, “Well, you don't seem like you're a depraved serial killer and Sheriff Mills trusts you, so... I believe I will accept your offer of a ride home.”

The mechanic barely managed to restrain his face from breaking out in an ear-to-ear grin at the professor's response. If Dean had needed any confirmation that this was a good day, he didn't need it anymore. He was getting to work on a classic vehicle, met the attractive owner of said classic vehicle and was getting the chance to drive him home. It was almost like the day was a belated birthday gift from the universe.

“Well, uh, Bobby's got the bays locked up, so I've just gotta lock up the office and then we'll be good to go,” he informed Castiel, turning around and taking a few steps towards the door to the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Castiel waited patiently for Dean to lock up the office, smiling to himself as he did. For all the bad that the day had thrown at him, it was starting to look like he was on an upswing. Sure, he was only meeting an attractive mechanic because said mechanic’s younger brother rear-ended his car, but still--

Castiel was not the type to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Castiel was brought back into the moment when he heard Dean clear his throat and saw him standing in front of him once again.

“Ready to go, Cas?” he asked, his keys jingling as he switched them back and forth between his hands.

Cas? he thought to himself, cocking his head slightly. Finally, a nickname I can stand!

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, nodding slightly towards Dean before looking around the parking lot a little bit.

“Alrighty, follow me then. My baby is parked right around back.”

Castiel silently followed Dean around to the back of Singer Auto, eager to get home and put the day behind him. As the two men rounded the corner of the garage bays, Castiel let out a soft, but audible gasp. Parked before him was one of the most beautiful cars that he had ever seen. He may not know anything about how to fix them, but Castiel knew an amazing vehicle when he saw one, and a clean, sleek, black ‘67 Impala definitely fit into that category.

“Is that- is she your’s?” he asked, not tearing his gaze from the vehicle before him.

Dean chuckled a little bit before answering, “Yeah, she’s mine. I’ve had her for about…. eight years now. She used to belong to my dad before Mom convinced him to get them a newer one after Sammy and I left the house.”

“She’s perfect,” he exhaled, finally looking back at his company. “You have an excellent taste in cars, Dean.”

“You do too, man. And once we’ve got her fixed up, she’ll be just as perfect as my own baby is,” he beamed as he unlocked the passenger side door before making his way around to the driver’s seat.

Castiel opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, buckling himself in before he shut the door and waited for Dean to do the same.

“Okie dokie, compadre, where to?” 

“9108 W. Dragonfly Drive. It’s about 15 minutes from here.”

“Dragonfly Drive… isn’t that out in rich people BFE?” Dean asked.

“Um, yes,” Castiel replied nervously. “It used to be my parents’ place.”

“Used to be? What happened?”

“They just got old. They were in their 40s and 50s when they had me and my siblings,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “One day, they went to bed together for a nap and passed in their sleep.”

“Oh shit, man, I’m sorry,” Dean apologized, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he started the car and pulled out of the shop’s parking lot.

“It’s okay, you had no way of knowing. It was two years ago and you and I didn’t even know each other existed,” Castiel assured him.

“I suppose that’s true enough.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rumble of the engine before Cas spoke up and asked, “So, do you have any siblings, Dean?”

He felt a brief twinge of guilt, playing dumb like he hadn’t met Sam.

“Yep, I’ve got two brothers: one biological and one adopted. I’ve got Sammy, who is a senior at Stanford, and then Adam, who’s 15 and just started his second year of high school down in Kansas.”

“You said one of them was adopted?”

“Yep, that’s Adam. His last name is Milligan. He’s the son of one of my dad’s Marines buddies that died in combat overseas. His mom died a couple hours after he was born from complications with his birth.”

“And your family took him in?”

“Well, Dad had promised his friend that he’d take care of his family if anything happened to him, and that was his way of keeping his promise,” Dean explained, a touch of pride for his father coloring his voice.

“Your father sounds like an honorable man,” Castiel remarked, his mouth turned up in a small smile.

“Yeah, he is.”

Before long, the two men pulled up in front of a large house with a small multitude of windows visible.

“This is all your’s?” Dean gawked, trying to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“No, my two brothers live here, too. I just happen to be alone for the next day or so,” Cas responded, trying not to laugh at Dean’s flabbergasted expression as he moved to unbuckle himself and step out of the car.

As the door of the car was shut, Dean called out to him and asked, “Do you need a ride to work or anything tomorrow?”

Cas walked over to Dean’s side of the car before answering, “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll just email my students and colleagues to let them know I won’t be in the next couple days. I’m going to take a few ‘me days’ to relax and recover from the shakiness of today.”

Dean nodded. “Solid plan.”

“Yeah…” Castiel trailed off. “Ordinarily, I’d invite you in and offer you dinner as a thank you, but today has been long and arduous, and I just kind of want to shower and sleep.”

“It’s cool man, I get it. Wrecks really take it out of you.”

Cas gave him a small smile before saying, “Thank you for the ride and for understanding, Dean.”

“No problemo, hombre. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Will do. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.”

After their goodbyes were done, Castiel turned to walk into his house and Dean pulled off to drive towards the opposite end of town and his home. Both men were smiling to themselves, glad that, despite the long and trying days they both had, something nice had come out of it.

That night, Castiel slept well, dreaming of automobile oil stains on skin and green apple eyes.


End file.
